


Home In Your Arms

by CorvusCorvidae



Series: Quinntana Week [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, College, F/F, One Shot, Quinntana Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCorvidae/pseuds/CorvusCorvidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a serial killer loose on campus, Quinn’s not expecting many guests. Too bad no one told Santana that. AU. One-shot. Quinntana Week Day 2: Serial Killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I confess, I don’t think this was how the theme was intended, but I was struggling.

*0*0*

It was one body in September, then body two turned up in October, with body three in November, and then four in December,  ending at five and six just last week. Suddenly, it was a federal case with no leads in sight, putting New Haven, and Yale, on defence. A mad man was running around, targeting college students, and putting everyone on edge.

Automatically, the campus went on high alert, with mandatory curfews and cancelling of any extracurricular activities. Classes were still in session, but a lot of students had returned home after the fifth body was found and a connection had been made. The Feds and the local police department were doing everything they could, the news said, but none of this was any relief for Quinn.

Unlike many of her peers, she couldn’t go home. Home was no longer home to her now. Even though her father had left and her mother was trying to be a better mom, Lima was still a nightmare.  It was only the middle of January, she had been back in New Haven for two weeks, and she was not ready to leave.

Escaping to Yale had been the best idea after a rocky Christmas with too little booze and far too many lifetime movies, and an even worse new years with far too much booze and far too little lifetime movies. Really, all Quinn wanted was to be tucked up in her dorm room, out of the cold and the snow, away from the psycho that was running rampant, and stay put.

She had her laptop, her Netflix account, an abundant number of books, and no roommate to contest with. The girl’s parents had all but demanded that she return home after hearing about what was happening on the news. So with the place to herself, she was content with skipping the unnecessary lectures, and spending her free time holed up inside.

It sounded like a good plan, one she was ready to set in motion. It was a Friday night, and given that she didn’t have any commitments over the weekend, she could take full advantage. Her laptop was set up, she was ready to catch up on her shows, the links had loaded, and she had enough junk food to fill any cravings through the night.

Just as she was about to get settled on her bed to begin, there was a knock at her door. Glancing at the time, Quinn frowned but got up to answer. It was probably the girl across the hall checking to see if there were many left on the floor. Safety in numbers and all that, if they needed to venture out.

Opening the door with a neutral smile, not wanting to appear rude, Quinn cocked her head to the side and blinked once at the sight before her. That was not the girl across the hall, and that was most definitely a bag of clothing on the floor.

“Santana, what are you doing here?” Quinn asked, frowning in confusion. This was certainly an unexplained visit.

Santana grinned and waltzed into the room, dumping her bag with a thump next to Quinn’s bed.

“Do you know how hard it was to get in here?” she began. “Geez, they’re really taking security serious. But then again, all it took was unbuttoning the top four buttons of my shirt and this one guy let me waltz right on in.” Quinn was still in the doorway, holding the door open in shock.

So apparently Santana was coming inside whether she liked it or not.

“Oh, and you said your roommate fled back to Kansas, so I thought I’d come stay in the meantime. Can’t have you up here by yourself now, can we?” she smirked, as if there was no defence against her reasoning. What even?

“You do realise the whole place is pretty much on lockdown, right?” Come on, she had to have noticed.

Finally closing the door, Quinn turned back around and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about this yet and needed time to think.

“Of course I do, and while I don’t get your need to stay here when Kurt, Rachel and myself offered you a ridiculously comfy couch to sleep on, I couldn’t stay down there knowing you were all alone up here,” Santana finished.

Huh.

“And Kurt and Rachel?” Quinn enquired, watching as Santana threw off her coat and took a seat on her bed.

“There isn’t a serial killer running around NYADA, and until there is, they’re staying put and going to classes,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively.

“As am I, which is why this visit it misguided.” Okay, that was technically true. She was still going to classes, just not all of them.

“No, it’s not,” Santana argued back. “You’re in this room alone, that shit isn’t right. Don’t they have flyers up about some buddy-buddy system in place? Well who is going to be your buddy?” The idea sounded idiotic to Santana since this freak show was clearly out to get his no matter what, but whatever.

“What do you intend to do while I’m in class?” There was no need to let on that she was only attending her morning lectures.

“Sit in the back?” Rolling her eyes, Quinn gave an exasperated sigh and flounced onto the bed next to her. “Look, Q, protest all you want but I’m not going anywhere. Until this freak is captured, or until your crazy roommate comes back, my ass is staying put,” Santana said, and okay, that was actually rather nice of her. Who knew it, Santana could be considerate.

“You’re terribly sweet in a really awful way, you know that right?” she replied, and Santana grinned.

“It’s why the girls love me,” she said with a shrug, as if this was common knowledge.

Quinn wasn’t going to argue with that, and with another eye roll, she leant her head on Santana’s shoulder. There was really no way she was going to convince the other girl to leave, so she may as well get used to her being around. Why fight it?

“You’ll probably get bored after a few days,” Quinn said, just throwing that out there so she could lower Santana’s expectations. There really wasn’t anything to do now that everything was closed early.

“Well, I might only need to be here a few days if they catch this guy. Plus, I’m sure you can entertain me.” Quinn was definitely not sure of that, but once again, she wasn’t going to argue.

“Have you had dinner?” she enquired, needing to know if they were going to have to make a trip out. Curfew was an hour or so away so there was still time.

“Yeah, and I even brought you some food just in case you were falling apart up here. It’s not like a meal or anything, but Kurt and Rachel didn’t want me coming empty handed.”  Santana smiled proudly as she scooted to the end of the bed and began pulling out things from her bag.

Like Quinn suspected, it was mostly clothing and Santana’s toiletries, but there were movies tucked in the back, and she was pulling out a metal tin that had a note taped to the top. Accepting it with one eyebrow cocked, Quinn glanced at the note.

_Our couch is still available if you want to come and stay with us!  Keep safe, Quinn! And remember that rape whistle I bought you, now’s the time to start carrying it! If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. – Rachel & Kurt_

Opening the tin curiously, the smell of cookies overwhelmed her senses, and Quinn couldn’t help but chuckle. She’d have to text Rach and thank her.

“Thank fuck you’ve opened them. Give me,” Santana demanded like a child, holding out her hand expectantly. “Rachel made me promise not to touch them until you had.” Quinn shot her a look and shook her head, reaching in the tin anyway and handing Santana a cookie.

She grabbed one for herself and closed the tin over, placing in on the bed next to her, just out of arms reach from Santana. Quinn wasn’t an idiot, if she let that tin out of her sight, Santana would eat the rest of them without bothering.

“This has to be one perk of living with her,” she mused, swallowing the first bite. Seriously, if Rachel’s Broadway career never took off, she could sell these cookies and make a fortune.

Santana hummed in contentment and then shrugged her shoulders. “She actually doesn’t bake that often, which sucks. She only does it for special occasions.”

“And what’s the special occasion here? Our friend’s on a campus with a serial killer?” Quinn deadpanned, earning a grin in return.

“Fuck if I know, fuck if I care. So, what we going to do tonight?” Santana raised her eyebrows in question, and Quinn wiped her hands together, and then filled her in on what she had planned. Thankfully, Santana seemed to be up for watching what Quinn wanted to, and after changing into pyjamas so they were more comfortable, the two of them settled onto her bed.

“I’m glad you’re not freaking out or anything,” Santana murmured, a few minutes after cuddling in to Quinn’s side so she could see the laptop screen clearly.

“Hmm?” she hummed, turning to look at the girl. Santana squirmed a little under her gaze and shrugged.

“You still look sane, or a sane as you can be I guess, and it’s a bit of a relief,” she admitted, and Quinn smiled in response.

“If I couldn’t handle it, I would have come to New York.”

“You should have done that anyway,” she grumbled, with a light prod into Quinn’s side.

Santana clearly didn’t understand Quinn’s thinking, but she wasn’t going to let some sicko chase her away from her new safe haven. Plus, now that Santana was there with her, there was even less reason for her to leave. Glancing at her slyly, Quinn smiled. This was probably the nicest thing Santana had ever done for her.

*0*0*

In the days that followed, Quinn and Santana formed a little bit of a routine. Santana had taken up residence in her roommate’s bed and every morning she slipped out to go to the bathroom, while Quinn would crawl to the sink and brush her teeth and wash her face. Then they’d switch.

Together, they’d throw on clothes and head out to get breakfast. Quinn usually stopped in to ask a few of the others on the floor if they wanted to come, knowing that they were most likely awake, and slowly but surely Santana met a few of Quinn’s Yale friends.

They were not as snooty as she thought they were going to be, and maybe that had something to do with the crisis going on around them but whatever, it was refreshing not to be around people who were going to burst into a musical every five minutes.

As well as getting to know Quinn’s friends on their outings, Santana also got to see the communities response to the attacks taking place. There were flyers and signs everywhere warning students about the curfew, the buddy system, and who to call when reporting something suspicious. The place was also crawling with police, and campus security was out in force as well.

It created a really tense atmosphere, one that had both Quinn and Santana shying away from. If they could help it, they wouldn’t go outside all that much. Not only was it still freezing, with the snow heavier than usual, but seeing the grim looks of everyone and reading the same headlines again and again, broadcasted in stores, on the radio, plastered up out front shops, completely squashed this safe feeling they were trying to create.

Quinn still went to her classes, however. But rather than head out for dinner with Santana later, she would go out with the girls on Quinn’s floor and they’d bring back food for everyone. They weren’t the only ones who wanted to be tucked up and out of the way until the cops got this guy.

But even tucking up away inside and trying to stay safe, a tactic that the campus was employing across the board, didn’t stop the attacks from continuing.

“Another girl was attacked,” Santana whispered one afternoon, sitting in Quinn’s room with a box of noodles on her lap, untouched. She’d seen the reports when she arrived back with the girls from getting food. It had been all over the web, and Santana thought she was going to be sick.

Quinn looked like she was going to be, too, as she dropped her bag at the door and leant back against the frame, feeling complete and utter defeat encompass her body. There were cops everywhere, literally on every corner. How? How had this happened?

“Reports are saying that she’s in surgery right now-“ Santana went on to say, only to be cut off.

“She’s alive?” Quinn asked in surprise, having already jumped to the conclusion that the girl hadn’t made it. None of the others had. Maybe there was still hope yet.

“Yeah, she did. But her friend didn’t. They’ve not released his name, but they think they were sticking to the buddy system when attacked.” Reaching out, Santana waited for Quinn to cross the floor and take her hand. She didn’t have to wait long, and Quinn practically fell into her arms.

“What?” That system was to protect everyone. How had it not worked? How had this monster slipped through the net?

“They found him first, and it didn’t fit so cops searched the area and they found her, barely alive, according the news.”

“Fuck.” The silence droned on, and Santana crawled up off the bed, putting the noodles on Quinn’s desk. She then pulled Quinn to her feet and then helped her take her coat off. They weren’t going back out. There was no need to.

Quinn felt numb while Santana manoeuvred her about. It was as if a part of her was cracking with each round of bad news. She really thought the police would have caught this guy by now. She really thought things would be back to normal. But no, that wasn’t happening, and it was only getting worse.

Taking a shaky breath, fear still clinging to her spine and making her stomach twist, she reached out and pulled Santana into a tight hug. The girl responded instantly despite the surprise, and began rubbing her back soothingly, keeping her close.

“We can pack a bag and be out of here in thirty minutes,” Santana whispered, and it was with a sigh Quinn shook her head.

She buried her face into the crook of Santana’s neck and let out another shaky breath. Nothing had happened to her, she was safe, safe in her best friend’s arms, but yet she felt like the world was caving in on her.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Quinn murmured. “I want to stay.” She couldn’t run away from this. She wasn’t going to let some monster win.

“Then I’ll stay too.” Santana kissed her temple and continued to hold her.

They had a very quiet night, with the soft music coming from Quinn’s speakers, and lying in Quinn’s bed together. Quinn didn’t want to let Santana go, needing the comfort to ground her, and Santana was ready to do whatever Quinn needed, even if that meant staying awake to ensure Quinn got off to sleep soundly, and it remained that way.

The following morning, after having a quiet breakfast and popping into one of the local stores, they stopped by one of the temporary memorials to lay flowers for those that had been murdered. The site was covered with notes, letters, beautiful bouquets, along with fleets of students, all holding vigil for the girl still fighting to survive. It was rather overwhelming to see, and Quinn reached for Santana’s hand, gripping it tightly, receiving three squeezes in return.

Despite all the horror taking place, everyone was still coming together, making their defiance known, and Quinn knew she’d made the right decision to stay and see this out.

*0*0*

After completing their morning bathroom routine, Santana and Quinn elected not to go out for breakfast. They had enough food in the dorm room, and while it probably wasn’t all suitable breakfast food, it was going to do. But eating was going to have to wait, because Quinn had crawled back into bed, facing the wall, and Santana couldn’t have that.

She was slowly watching her friend shut in on herself, and she hated it. Try as she might, the fear of the situation was getting to her, and Yale felt like a toxic pool, battered and bruised from the assault on its students. Quinn was trying to keep her mood up, but it wasn’t sticking, and understandably so.

The girl had died, and the death total was now at seven.

That had been four days ago, and since then the campus was being flooded with grief counsellors, information for seeking help, and safe areas where students could meet up and talk. Santana had suggested Quinn go along to the latter, but she refused. She only wanted to go to the very limited number of lectures that were still running, and then stay cooped up indoors, like today, except she wasn’t even going to her classes.

Now it was Santana’s job to try and get Quinn back into the land of the living and the land of the now. Yes, it was a pretty horrifying situation to be in, being under constant attack, but they were managing, and she was safe. Santana was doing everything to make sure of that.

“Fucking hell, what’s with all the snow?” she whined, looking out the window between a gap in the curtains. “Is it always this bad?”

She padded across the room and Quinn watched blearily as her body moved closer. She thought Santana was going to head back into her own bed, but nope, there she was lifting her covers up and sliding in next to her.

“You live in the fucking Arctic,” she grumbled, and Quinn shook her head with a smile. That was a start, and Santana tried not to grin back.

“It’s not that bad,” Quinn said, shrugging her shoulder. She had expected this, and it had actually been an appeal of choosing Yale, aside the many other perks.

“Not that bad? Q, I just lost by nipples standing by that window. They fell right off from the damn cold,” Santana exaggerated, earning a light chuckle in return.

“We both know they didn’t,” Quinn murmured back, giving a quick glance down to Santana’s sleep shirt. They were definitely still there.

“Whatever. How can anyone get anything done in this weather?”

“I really don’t know, nor do I care. I’m trying to sleep.” Her bed was warm, or warmer than what it was without Santana’s presence, and she was tucked up cosy. Sleep seemed like the best option.

“No,” Santana whined again, reaching out and wrapping her arms over Quinn’s torso. “Amuse me. Come on, I’m your guest, that means you have to amuse me.”

“You’re my uninvited guest.” Santana snorted at that and Quinn could feel the front of Santana’s body pressing into her back. The girl was unrelenting.

“You need me,” Santana whispered, nuzzling into her neck. It sent shivers down her spine and had her rolling over, just to stop the outbreak of gooseflesh spreading further.

“Need you for what?” she shot back, rising to this challenge. She could sense Santana was up to something, and she wanted to figure it out as soon as possible. 

“To protect your white girl ass from that creep.” It was said light-heartedly, but Santana looked to be preparing for a major fallout, and it was then that the pieces started falling together in Quinn’s mind.

“You’re really worried about me,” she sussed, rolling onto her side properly and smiling.

“No, I’m not. I just don’t have time to go to your funeral if anything was to happen, Christ.” It was flippant, but Santana had been careful with her speech so that she didn’t sound disrespectful.

“You are. You’re worried that something might happen to me. Santana, I’m safe, okay? I buddy with three other girls to and from my classes.” Well, she did when she attended them. “We have a system. We’re carrying pepper spray and rape whistles, and then I’m with you all evening. You’ve made it so I don’t have to leave here after three o’clock, and I know that if I wasn’t back here by four you’d sound the alarm. You don’t have to worry, I’m safe.”

Saying it like that, laying it all out, actually made her feel safe for a change. It was then that she saw the true intentions behind Santana’s motives, because her smile was far too pleased to be anything other than successful. However, Quinn couldn’t be mad at her for it.

“Alright, I get the point you were trying to make, but I just feel like having a day in bed,” she mumbled, trying to hide her face in the pillow.

“Wanky,” Santana grinned, her hands seeking out Quinn’s waist.

“Get off!” she laughed, shoving her back. “Let’s watch something, and if you say porn, I’m kicking you out,” Quinn warned, pointing at her.

Santana smirked, shaking her head, and crawled out the bed to get the laptop. That seemed to have done the trick, and at least Quinn didn’t look completely despondent now. She just had to make sure she could keep it up.

*0*0*

For every good step Santana achieved with Quinn, it seemed the universe was set out to rectify it. They had managed another three days of living in a contented little bubble, watching movies, playing ridiculous games with the others in the dorms, and then spent the nights curled up in bed together.

College was meant to be fun, and Santana was trying her best to ensure that Quinn didn’t look back on her freshman year with the lasting memory being that seven students died. It was going to be hard to do, but Quinn definitely deserved it. This was her break away from the nightmare that Lima had become, and it should be a new beginning, one not tarnished by some psychopath.

Sadly, their bubble was about to be burst again.

This time, Santana waited until Quinn had come in the room, removed her coat, before getting up and wrapping her in a hug. Quinn tensed in surprise, and it was as if she knew because she took a sharp breath and then her fingers gripped the back of Santana’s jumper.

“They found another girl,” Santana explained, not wanting to drag this out any longer.

Pulling back from Quinn, she led her over to the desk and nodded at the news webpage she had been watching. Unlike the last girl, this one had been found dead.

The news footage was streaming live from one side of campus, an area Quinn frequented often. Seeing it, seeing the tape in the background with all the different officers on site, it made her sick to her stomach. This wasn’t going away. This guy was only getting worse and worse. Surely they had to be close to catching him now.

“When did they…”

“Couple hours after you’d left,” Santana filled in, assuming that she was asking about when they found the body.

Quinn nodded and then leant over the laptop, closing the news tab and loading up her email. It didn’t take her long to see what she had expected, and Santana stepped back and sat on the bed, waiting to hear what the verdict was going to be.

“Classes have been cancelled,” Quinn murmured, letting out a sigh. She closed the lid of the laptop and then crawled onto the bed next to Santana. “Arrangements are being made in regards as whether or not to close the dorms.”

It felt like the ultimate blow. They had all tried so hard to keep things going, to fight back against this, and yet there was nothing they could do. Their efforts were wasted, the college was bowing under this man’s reign of terror, and four students lay dead this month. It was beginning to feel like they were never going to win this battle.

“You should come back to New York with me,” Santana said softly, not wanting to pressure Quinn into making a decision she didn’t want to.

“No. I’m not going to be chased away by some sick fuck. No. Yale is my home, a home I’ve finally found and love. I won’t let someone else ruin it for me. I’m not leaving,” she argued, already feeling disappointed and angry at the situation, and venting it out on the girl next to her.

“Q-“ Santana began, taking hold of her hands and entwining their fingers.

“Look, if they close the accommodation, I’ll go to New York with you, but until then, I’m staying put. If you want to leave, you can. I’ll understand,” Quinn replied, glancing down at their hands and running her thumb over the back of Santana’s.

“Please, I’m not going anywhere,” Santana grumbled, reaching out and pulling Quinn’s body closer. She placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head and Quinn let out a contented hum.

“I’m scared,” she confessed, and Santana’s hold on her tightened. “I just…I hate this. I’m not scared of him, whoever he is, but I’m scared Yale will never be the same for me. I thought I was getting a fresh start, but this wasn’t the beginning I was looking for.”

“They’ll get him, Q. They will. And when they do, this place will be so much more than what you need it to be. The people here…you’re around good people. Trust me, everyone will recover from this and be stronger than before.” Of that, Santana was certain.

*0*0*

The dorms were still open four days later, and the police presence had increased, if that was even possible. They had to be days away from catching this guy, because Santana could hardly move without being questioned by someone on whether or not she’d seen any suspicious activity. She hadn’t, and if she had, she would have called the helpline they’d set up.

Given that the mood was so dull and depressing, she concocted a plan to cheer Quinn up. They were young, they were unsupervised, they should be having a good time, regardless of what else was going on around them.

“What’s that?” Quinn asked, coming back from the bathroom.

They had spent the day placing flowers at the temporary memorials again, and attending several meetings the college was having. It had been an informative and reflective day, but still a depressing one, and now Santana was doing what Santana does best; getting liquored up.

“Tequila,” she replied, watching Quinn’s mouth open in shock.

“Santana, where the hell did you get that?!” she whispered, looking around the dorm room as if she expected someone to pop out and bust them. Please.

“The guy on the second floor totally has the hots for me. He almost came in his pants when I mentioned doing body shots off Brittany,” Santana replied, and Quinn dropped onto the bed in front of her, completely shocked.

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked, not quite understanding how the two things related to one another.

“He had it, he gave it to me. I’m pretty certain he thinks I’m a student here or something. Whatever, he gave it to me,” she explained, and Quinn finally had her answer. However, Santana had left out exactly how she acquired it, and that was suspicious in itself.

“In exchange for what?” she questioned, not too sure she really wanted this answer.

“I told him how to give a girl an orgasm. Now, where the fuck are your shot glasses? I’ve been looking but I can’t find them,” Santana said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders and then waving her arm round the room.

“You told him what?!” Was she serious? She couldn’t be…but it was Santana. Oh good lord. Quinn was mortified.

“Q, he’s a total dweeb. Poor bastard will probably only get one chance to have a girl in his bed, the least I could do was make it memorable for her. Now, shot glasses.” Santana began snapping her fingers, as if expecting Quinn to suddenly jump into action. Yeah right.

“I don’t own any,” she said, hoping that would be enough to deter this awful idea.

“Of course you don’t.” Santana rolled her eyes and unscrewed the cap. “Don’t think you’re going to get off just because you don’t have any. We’re still drinking this.” Well, clearly Quinn would need to try another tactic.

“Why?” she asked, frowning. Drinking really didn’t seem like the best idea right now.

“Because we need to have fun,” Santana answered, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “Q, there’s a fucking serial killer running around outside, and as much as I like to think we’re both coping with this situation, I know for fact that our troubles could be eased a little with the consumption of my good friend here.” She tapped the bottle, nodding in time.

As much as Quinn hated to admit it, Santana did present a good case. Times were particularly rough, and maybe one night of drinking wouldn’t hurt to take the edge off. If anything, it would help them forget, and fill this time with memories other than being cooped up in a dorm room hiding.

Reaching out, her fingers clasped round the bottle, and Santana cheered in victory. Shooting her a dirty look for this coercion, she took a swig and then grimaced. This was not her ideal drink, but since it was all they had, she’d endure. It would do the job she needed it to do, anyway.

And heaven help her, it did it good.

They were half way through the bottle, and Santana was sat slumped on the floor, leaning against her roommate’s bed, and Quinn was sitting opposite in very much the same position. Their legs were a tangled mess together in the middle, and they’d created a sure way of passing the bottle back and forth without spilling any, rolling it across the floor to each other.

They’d already mused about Santana’s life in New York, and spent considerable time laughing at Kurt and Rachel and some of the completely insane things those two had gotten up to. Quinn had even shared a few of her own ridiculous moments when she first moved there, and the atmosphere was easy and relaxed, but it was slipping.

It was with the bottle rolled Quinn’s way, that she allowed her happy mood to take a backseat for a second, thinking about all those that had probably been doing this very same thing with their friends, only to have their lives cut short. She felt lucky, but guilty at the same time.

Santana seemed to sense where her mood had shifted and did her bit to confront the situation. She always could hold her liquor better than Quinn, and was thankfully nowhere near being the weepy drunk that she used to.

“Did you know any of the girls?” she asked, breaking the silence, and Quinn shook her head.

“No. I’d heard about a few of them before…and I know people who were close with them, but we weren’t in the same circles. ”

“They better get this guy soon,” Santana murmured, running her hands over her sleep shorts. Quinn nodded as she took another swig from the bottle. Capping it, she rolled it back across the floor to Santana.

“I know,” she began, praying above all else that they caught this bastard soon. “I can’t even process the thought of there being another victim.” There had already been far too many. “It puts things into perspective, you know? And I don’t mean that in a horrible way but here were girls just like me, going on about their lives and then someone took that from them. They had no idea what was coming, and they still had so much ahead of them. What are their regrets? What are the dreams they never got to live out? Were they happy? I want to be happy.” Her voice was heavy with emotion, despite her attempts at concealing it.

She took a moment to pull everything back together, to push down any tears threatening to form because this wasn’t a time for crying. She could cry when they got the bastard, when it was over, when the threat was dealt with. Right now she needed to focus on keeping herself in one piece.

“Can I make you happy?” Santana asked, taking another drink before capping the bottle. This time, she didn’t roll it over.

“I’m not talking about sex,” Quinn replied, and she then watched Santana roll her eyes at her.

“Either was I, for a change.” Her gaze was unwavering, her eyebrows raised, and Quinn wasn’t sure what move to make next.

“You make me happy, don’t worry,” she tried, and Santana didn’t seem appeased with that answer.

“Alright, could I make you happier?” She slid across the floor until she was sitting next to Quinn, their backs resting against her bed still, and their shoulders touching. She had surprised herself with being able to do that so cleanly, so maybe she was a little more sober than she thought she was.

Quinn couldn’t break eye contact with Santana when she turned to look at her, and she chewed her bottom lip in thought. Could Santana make her happier? Maybe, maybe she could. Quinn wasn’t too sure. Yes, there were things she wanted to do and wanted to experience, but some of them were lifelong plans. For the here and now, there weren’t many, but maybe, maybe Santana could help with a few.

“Kiss me,” she answered, feeling bolder than ever before.

“What?” Santana hadn’t quite been expecting that response.

“I’ve been told you’re a fantastic kisser from Finn, Puck, Sam, Brittany, Rachel even, which what the hell? So kiss me. I want you to kiss me,” Quinn explained her reasoning, and then sat and waited.

“Rachel told you that? That little snitch. I’m going to kick her ass. That was meant to remain private!” Santana cried, looking royally pissed off and Quinn was glad she wasn’t Rachel right about now. “Wait, she said I was fantastic?” Of course, trust that to be what Santana focused on there.

“Pretty much.”  

Quinn could remember the phone call where Rachel had spilled the beans. They had been playing some obscure drinking game Quinn had never heard of, and apparently Santana had to kiss Rachel. How that came about, she didn’t know, but Rachel went on and on about how talented Santana’s mouth was, and until she brought it up, Quinn hadn’t really given it that much thought.

Yes, she’d heard about it from the aforementioned people, but it hadn’t really sunk it. When Rachel was going on and on about it, it started to fester, to become this idea, this wish that maybe one day she’d get to kiss Santana, too. She never actually thought there would be a situation where she could try and act on it.

Even with the copious amounts of time they’d spent together recently, majority of Quinn’s thoughts had remained platonic. Okay, she couldn’t really be faulted when it came to chancing the odd look now and then, because hello, Santana was gorgeous. But to allow these thoughts to be acted on was an entirely different thing altogether.

“Did it make you jealous?” Santana asked cocking one eyebrow and smirking at the possibilities.

“Maybe, but only because you got to kiss Rachel,” Quinn teased, and Santana’s face dropped. Chuckling at the dramatic change, Quinn didn’t stand a chance against Santana’s shove, and ended up lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

It was then Santana climbed atop of her, her legs on either side of Quinn’s hips, and her hands came to lean over her shoulders. Quinn could only look up at the sight above her, mesmerised by the light in those mischievous eyes and that tiny little smile adorning Santana’s lips.

“Do I need to beg?” she asked, and Santana chuckled.

“Would you?”

“Never,” Quinn shot back, shaking her head.

“Didn’t think so,” she murmured, slowing leaning in. Her hair had fallen over her face, and using her hands, Quinn pushed it out the way, coming to cup Santana’s face. “I was going to kiss you anyway,” Santana confessed, and this time it was Quinn’s turn to be surprised.

“You were?”

“Of course, you’ve been checking me out all week,” she grinned, and Quinn chuckled in disbelief.

“In your dreams,” she replied, undeterred by the cocky look on Santana’s face.

“Yeah, you were checking me out in them, too,” she shot back, nodding softly, moving just that little bit closer. “I should really thank you for this, by the way,” Santana began. “You’ve just given me a major ego boost. I mean, a kiss from me is going to make you happy, clearly I must be-“

“Shut up,” Quinn groaned, now hating how that was probably going to be thrown back at her for years, and finally closing the distance between them.

Santana moaned in surprise, her lips reacting on instinct and kissing Quinn back. She was being more careful than usual, letting Quinn take control of the kiss, leading how soft each swipe of her tongue should be, dictating when would be the appropriate time to nip at her bottom lip, and she was rewarded for her submission by a slight buck in Quinn’s hips.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, they both panted for breath, sucking in as much oxygen as possible, looking at the heady eyes of the other, and then Santana was practically devouring her mouth. Her tongue was playful and teasing, but exact and mind-blowing. She didn’t want it to stop. She never wanted Santana to stop, and she could see what Rachel was going on about. Santana knew exactly how to kiss, how to make Quinn’s body clench with need, and how to make her whimper and moan.

Her lips were soft, so soft, and they pillowed Quinn’s bottom lip between them, showering intimacy on her, making her suck in a desperate breath from Santana’s lungs, and then feeling that tongue come back into play. It had her quivering, imagining the possibilities, flicking against her own, caressing her own, and then retreating, only to be chased by a needy nip of Santana’s bottom lip in annoyance. Quinn tugged gently, making Santana inhale a sharp breath, and then she groaned when Quinn decided to use her own tactic against her, swiping her tongue over Santana’s bottom lip.

This time when it ended, Santana slowed with a few pecks, trying to calm the fire she’d ignited by accident. It didn’t really work as Quinn was now tipsy and in desperate need of an orgasm, but she appreciated the thought.

“So, did I live up to my reputation?” Santana teased, leaning her forehead against Quinn’s, their bodies still pressed together, which really wasn’t helping matters.

“You know you did,” she admitted, and she wasn’t even annoyed when Santana grinned wickedly in response. Deciding to be brave, Quinn kissed her lips again, wiping away that grin, and momentarily blindsiding Santana who looked dazed when she pulled back.

“Thank you for coming up here, for looking out for me,” Quinn whispered, running her fingers along Santana’s hairline, pushing her hair out of the way again. “You have no idea how much-“

“We’re friends, Q. That’s what friends do,”

“Is that all we are?” she enquired, her eyes flicking down to Santana’s lips again. Santana cocked her eyebrow in thought and her hips acted on instinct, grinding down into Quinn’s.

“Maybe…maybe there’s some room to upgrade that title,” she replied, still dazed at the fact she was having this conversation with Quinn. “You can tell me in the morning if you’re still serious. We’ll take it from there.”

Quinn could see the merit in her thinking and nodded. It was enough to have Santana rolling off her, and then the two of them got ready for bed. It was late already, and both could do with the sleep. As of late, it was no question where Santana slept, so when she made to go back to her roommate’s bed, Quinn was having none of it.

They may have kissed, and she might still be feeling that familiar throb in her lower abdomen, but she was not sleeping alone. Santana relented after a moment’s thought, and Quinn grinned, quite pleased with herself.

It was then she realised that Santana had actually done exactly what she’d set out to; make Quinn happier. Santana’s kiss had definitely made her happier, and as they crawled into bed together, she realised Santana’s presence over these last few weeks had actually made her happier, too.

Yale always used to make her happy, just because she’d made it there, she was living life independently and being successful along the way. But ever since the murders, Yale had done the opposite, making her miserable more often than not. It was Santana who had pulled her through it, who had gone above and beyond, and maybe Quinn needed to consider what that meant.

Well, she would do that another time, because right now she needed to sleep the alcohol away, with Santana’s arm thrown over her waist, keeping her safe.

*0*0*

Santana was squirming about in the bed next to her, and Quinn had no choice but to be risen from her slumber. She was ready to moan at the other girl for being so fidgety, but as she opened her eyes to glare effectively, she was met with a gorgeous smile and an unwavering gaze.

How anyone could look that good after consuming a quarter bottle of tequila only hours ago was beyond Quinn.

“They caught him,” Santana said, finally seeing her awake, and then Quinn had to do a double take, forcing her body to wake up faster.

“What?” She hadn’t heard that wrong, had she?

“They caught him,” Santana repeated, grinning ear to ear. “The Campus Killer, as the media has dubbed him, was caught this morning. Feds busted his ass, according to the news reports.”

“You’re serious?” They couldn’t joke about this. It was too serious to joke about. Santana surely knew that.

“Yep. I wouldn’t lie about this,” she answered, and good lord, Quinn’s heart was freaking the fuck out in her chest.

“Do they have the right guy, though? I mean-“ Her thoughts were running a million miles an hour, unable to discern one from the other.

“They’re reporting that the Feds have stopped the investigation with this arrest,” Santana answered, jumping in. “They’ve got him. It’s over. Your fancy school has already posted notices about resuming classes next week, as well as hosting a memorial service, and are thanking students for their vigilance.”

Santana had to roll her eyes at their promptness because geez, talk about giving time for the dust to settle. But whatever, it wasn’t like she was going to be around by the time all that took place.

“Now, go back to sleep, you looked exhausted,” Santana said, settling back into Quinn’s side.

“How can I sleep now?” Quinn asked, looking at her in shock. This was not a time for sleep, even if her body desperately needed it. She should be celebrating this fact, going to the memorial sites and paying respects, sorting out what she’d need for classes, and god, she really was knackered.

“Easy,” Santana said, wrapping her arms around Quinn as best she could. “Just relax and close your eyes. Everything’s back to normal now. You’re completely safe. I’ve got you.”

The way Santana said it had Quinn truly believing it, and she gave the girl one last look before taking her advice. How had she never worked this out before? How had it taken one tipsy kiss in the name of happiness to get her to realise just how much she liked the girl lying in bed next to her?

This was home, right there, that was home.

Yale was home, New Haven was home, and but maybe, maybe she was right in thinking Santana was home, too. She had grounded Quinn throughout all of this, she had protected her from the storm and stood by her side. She had done exactly what Quinn needed her too, and she had even made her laugh through the worst of it.

Later, when she woke, they’d have that conversation they needed to because there was no way she was going to walk away from this situation without acting on her feelings. Her goal from this point on was to be happy, happier than before, and having Santana in her life, in her dorm room, in her bed, in her arms, was definitely a step in the right direction.

Just like Santana had said, she had her, and Quinn intended to keep it that way.

*0*0*


End file.
